


i am not strong, and i am not wide, and i am not long

by allisonmartined



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He gives her a small smile, an <i>I'm fine</i>, but he doesn't think either of them believe it. But she's not fine either, so it's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am not strong, and i am not wide, and i am not long

They're sitting on the grass, knees pushed together, Allison's fingers skimming over arrows, like she can feel the energy in them and Stiles thinks that maybe she can. Her hair bunches around her face in a mass of curls and he can just barely make out her features beneath. There's something disheartening about not being able to see her eyes, the warm sparkle and simmer.  
  
Stiles talks over the gun in his hand that he is dismantling by memory and touch.  _I want you to be able to protect yourself if you have to_ , his father's voice rings in his ears and it only sounds slightly bitter, this time.  
  
Allison hums in agreement to whatever it is he's saying. His mind goes off into so many different paths sometimes. He wonders if you opened up his brain, would it look like a city map with many many winding streets or would it just be white noise, filling up the emptiness.  
  
He doesn't realize he's stopped talking until he feels Allison's penetrating gaze settle on his, an inquisitive lift of her eyebrow. He gives her a small smile, an  _I'm fine_ , but he doesn't think either of them believe it. But she's not fine either, so it's okay. It's okay.  
  
She curls a hand over an an arrow, white knuckles and tense muscles. There's a heaviness between them, a bleakness. A dark grayness that hovers between their bodies, grief that is palpable and constant.  
  
He breathes, heavy and slow, chest rising and falling. And she follows, slow, deep intake and shaky release. He can feel the burn in the back of his throat and at the corner of his eyes, something like despair digging in, and he knows she can feel it too, the pain like thunder taking root.


End file.
